Aftermath
by Laurel-Crowned
Summary: Emotions have replaced weapons, and the last thing that the Perfect Soldier expected to feel was insecure ...


**Rating: PG **

**Warnings: some language**

**Pairings: no official pairings as of yet … read into it however you want to, k? **

**Disclaimer: Oh come on, do I have to? *sighs* All right … I own nothing. None of the characters, non-original concepts, or … you know what? If you can't figure it out then I'm gonna have to come by and hit you over the head with a tack hammer, 'cause you are a retard. (heh heh, kudos to whoever knows where I got that line –it's not mine either. Damn, can't win!)**

**……………………..**

            He had stepped out of the charred metal ruins for the last time. He would no longer have to witness bloodshed by his own hands, to feel the sickening but intoxicating adrenaline rush that came only from the heat of battle. Sitting stiffly at the elegant table, wounds healing for what might be the final time, Heero knew that the fighting was over. People around him were laughing and dancing and drinking, celebrating with newfound innocence and freedom. Frowning slightly, Heero tried very hard to feel something along with them. The champagne glass perched precariously in his left hand trembled slightly, its contents quivering and threatening to spill onto the pristine, silken tablecloth below. Heero set the glass down and sighed deeply, sitting back awkwardly in his chair. There were so many people, but he felt alone. 

            "Heero! Heero man, isn't this awesome??" a voice broke his sullen reverie. Heero's head bolted up, and he forced his face to soften as he met Duo's cheerful grin. The braided young man sauntered toward the otherwise unoccupied table, empty glass swinging casually in his loosely fisted hand. He flopped down across from Heero, his smile never fading. 

            "Yeah, I suppose," Heero replied weakly, ignoring the detached feeling inside of him. Everything was hazy, unstable. Maybe he had had a little too much to drink after all. 

            "You suppose? You suppose?!" Duo repeated dramatically, slapping a hand on the table and laughing. "Heero, this is the best, I mean the best party I've ever been to! Damn straight it's awesome! I feel light as air right now, you know?" He paused, reaching over to grab Heero's glass and down the alcohol in one shot. 

            "Sure, Duo," Heero agreed, but his reply sounded feeble even in his own ears.

            "You don't sound convinced," Duo said, a devilish grin spreading over his features. "Something bothering you?"

            "I … I really don't know," Heero said quietly, his eyes falling to the table. "I guess I just … can't believe that it's over."

            "Ah. Yeah, I know that feeling," Duo replied, and suddenly he chortled tipsily. "Isn't it great? You gotta get outta this corner and get in on the festivities! Betcha don't even know what the others are doing. You're missing the best part! I mean, have you ever seen Quatre drunk? It's hilarious! And I for one never knew that Trowa could dance so well. Well, I suspected it, what with him being so agile and all, but … ah, you get the idea. And Wufei! Oh man, he'd kill himself if he were sober! He's been trying to put the moves on Sally the whole night! Once he mistook Relena for Sally, don't ask me how, and boy was that funny! Good thing both girls are too tipsy to really realize what Mr. Can't-hold-two-drinks is doing. With any luck none of them will remember …" 

            Heero listened absently to Duo's ramblings, but he wasn't really interested. In fact, he suddenly decided that he did not want to be at this party at all. 'Screw celebrating victory,' he thought viciously. Being alone in a crowd was not making him feel victorious. He scowled, suddenly wishing that Duo had not finished his drink.

            "… you listening? Hello?" Duo's voice brought him back, and he blinked to find a hand waving mere inches from his nose. He swatted it away.

            "Yes."

            "Well, then, what do you say?" 

            "Say?" Heero repeated blankly. Duo sighed loudly.

            "You were not listening," he said, and shook his head. "I asked if you wanted to stop being antisocial for five minutes and get out on the dance floor."

            "Hn. No one to dance with," Heero said. 

            "Aw, c'mon," Duo prodded verbally. "Who cares? Not like anyone's dancing with anyone anyway. It's just a big mass of drunken swaying." He laughed, and reached for Heero's hand. "I'll dance with you if it makes you feel better. C'mon. C'mooooooon."

            "I'll pass," Heero shook his head, and Duo withdrew his hand reluctantly.

            "Okay, Heero, but you come find me when you regret that answer. Have a drink, huh? I know you're not a party person, but geez," he said, trailing off and pushing himself to unsteady feet as the music gained in tempo.

            "Duo! It's your song!" Hilde said, suddenly appearing out of the crowd with a wide grin. Duo scratched his head dramatically. 

            "It is? I didn't know I had a song!"

            "Well, you will if you just get out here!" Quatre laughed, leaning slightly on Hilde for support. "C'mon, Duo, I bet Trowa you were a better dancer. You gotta show 'em what you got!"

            "You bet on me, without asking me? Quat, you're dangerous when you're drunk!" Duo laughed. 

            "Am not!" Quatre protested, then hiccupped and giggled. "Well, maybe just a little … let's go?" He held out a hand to him, and Duo took it easily. Capturing Hilde's hand with his other, the three wandered off into the crowd without a word to the stoic boy at the table. Heero watched them until they were out of sight, and then he let his head fall to the table into his arms. 

            It hit him with the sudden intensity of a tidal wave. The war was over. It was actually over. No more gundams, no more armies, no more need for weapons and soldiers and death. It was supposed to be perfect.

            That was when it started.

            "Ow!" Quatre yelped, pulling his hand back against his shirt to avoid the rest of the spattering grease. He took a step backwards and looked over his shoulder, brandishing a worn spatula in his other fist. "Trowa? A little help, please?"

            "I told you so," Trowa smirked, rising from the kitchen table and folding the newspaper that he had been reading over his placemat. It was wasted effort; Wufei reached over to snitch the newsprint as soon as the tall young man turned his back.

            "Hey, I'm trying, aren't I?" Quatre defended himself. "I can't help it if I can't cook well."

            "That's why I offered to do it in the first place," Trowa replied, plucking the spatula from Quatre's hand. The blond swatted him playfully.

            "I will not make you take my chores just because you're better at them! I want to learn to cook, not have you do it for me," he explained. Trowa began flipping the strips of bacon expertly, the spitting grease apparently not affecting him at all. 

            "I know, I know," he replied, smiling faintly behind his shock of russet brown hair. "But I don't want you to hurt yourself either. Why don't you start on the pancakes?"

            "Okay!" Quatre agreed brightly, moving to fetch the batter from the fridge. "Wufei, do you know where Duo and Heero are?"

            "No," Wufei replied distractedly from behind the paper. "I have not seen Yuy this morning, and Maxwell has been wandering in and out at all hours. I think he's still slightly messed up from the party two weeks ago."

            "Hey!" 

            The trio turned to find Duo in the doorway, grinning mischievously at Wufei. "I resent that, Wu-man. I only drank enough to have a hangover for a week! You underestimate my powers of alcohol ingestion." Wufei snorted and looked back to the paper.

            "Whatever you say, Maxwell. I should have known that you would show up when food is involved."  
            "You say it like it's a bad thing," Duo said, and looked to the pair preparing breakfast. "You guys need any help? Taste tester, maybe?" Quatre smiled brightly at him.

            "That's okay, Duo, we can handle it," he replied. "But if you want to do us a favor?"

            "Shoot," Duo nodded.

            "Would you go see where Heero is?" Quatre asked, catching the way Duo's expression dimmed at the mention of their absent friend. "Tell him breakfast will be ready soon?"

            "Sure, Quat," Duo accepted the task. "But don't get your hopes up. He's been acting so weird since we all moved in here, who knows if he'll even want to grace us with his presence."

            "He's adjusting, Duo. We all are," Quatre said wearily.

            "Tch. I know. But he's being too damn melodramatic about it. If he'd just admit to himself that he's having a hard time, we could help him. He's avoiding us."

            "What did you expect, Maxwell? He's not a social person," Wufei pointed out.

            "Well, neither are you, and here you are," Duo retorted. 

            "It's his way, Duo. He'll come around soon enough," Quatre assured him, but they both knew that the words held no guaranteed merit. Duo sighed.

            "I hope so. He never used to ignore me like this," he said sullenly, and shook his head. "Okay, enough of that. I'll be back down in a minute. Don't steal my breakfast, Wu."

            "Right," Wufei rolled his eyes. "Who steals whose food?" Duo laughed as he exited the kitchen, and silence overcame them once more. Quatre sighed.

            "What?" Trowa asked quietly.

            "Duo's worried," Quatre responded softly. "He's trying to hide it."

            "Don't dwell on it, Quat," Trowa whispered. "Let it be. It'll be all right." Quatre nodded, but it was plain to see that Trowa was just as concerned as he was.

            He lay in the large bed, cold sheets twisted around his lean body and pillows scattered everywhere but their rightful place beneath his head. The spinning ceiling fan chilled his bare chest, but he didn't move save to breathe slowly. Blank, smoky blue eyes focused on nothing somewhere above his tousled, dark bangs. The room was dim and dreary, but it was obviously day. Heero did not stir.

            "Hey, Heero, where are you? Quatre says that breakfast is almost rea …" Duo's voice began, but it suddenly halted as the braided boy traversed the doorway. "Whoa. Heero, you okay?" Heero didn't answer; he simply blinked once and sighed despondently. 

            "Heero?" Duo's voice was worried now, and hurried footsteps echoed hollowly on the hardwood floor as Duo closed the space between them. "Come on, stop playing. It's not like you to sleep in past … well, past anyone. Sleeping in past me? No way. How sick are you?" Heero's only reply was a slight frown, and Duo bent over the bed nervously. Reaching out carefully, his fingers aimed for Heero's forehead. Just millimeters before they reached their destination Heero shied away from the touch and closed his eyes. 

            "Go away," he muttered quietly.

            "Heero, I've got to see if you're feverish or …"

            "Don't touch me," Heero hissed, and he pulled a pillow over his head as he curled into a tight ball of shivering limbs. Duo's hand hovered awkwardly in the air above Heero, and he finally withdrew with deep concern.

            "Heero," Duo sighed, tugging at his braid nervously. "Okay, Heero. Rest up and feel better soon, huh? I'll check on you later." Silence was his only reply, and after a few precious seconds Duo pulled the blankets over Heero and turned to slink from the room. His footfalls faded into the hall, and stillness reigned once more. 

            Heero began to shake with silent, wracking sobs.

"Well?" Quatre said hopefully when Duo came back into the kitchen. The last semblance of cheerfulness had drained from Duo's face, and he took his seat wearily.

            "He's not coming," he said tersely, and silently began to cut the stack of pancakes that had been set before his chair. His appetite was gone, but he wouldn't upset Quatre by not eating. The first bite seemed to turn to ash on his tongue. Breakfast was oddly quiet.

            It wasn't fair. Heero lay in bed, cursing every god with every language that he knew. The remains of semi-dry tears splotched his face, and in sudden movement he brought his hand up to rake the droplets away. He didn't know how long Duo had been gone; he didn't care anymore. About anything. He didn't see the point in caring when he had no point himself.

            That was what it came down to, and it pained Heero to think about such weakness. The others weren't wallowing like he was; in fact, they seemed to be getting on all right. Wufei was in the process of enrolling in a nearby university, Quatre had fallen into his place in the family business, Trowa would soon be joining him in the Winner Corporation after tying up loose ends with the circus, and Duo … well, Duo was doing more than okay. Duo was positively radiant. The boy had been jovial in war, but in peace he was the quintessence of cheerfulness. His charisma had landed him a good deal of acquaintances outside of their group of close friends, and had won him a wonderful little business a few miles from Quatre's mansion repairing motorcycles. Heero had never seen Duo happier, and felt awful dragging the boy down when he was around. 

            He dragged them all down, actually, but it was Duo who bothered him most of all. Duo would falter, however slightly, in Heero's presence. Ever since the war's end there had been something between them, but Heero couldn't place it. He was happy for his friend, but at the same time he was … he didn't know. Jealous? Resentful? Surely not. He was glad Duo had found his place so quickly, and that he could be in his essence so much. But he wasn't blind to the fact that his own inadequacy was hindering the others.

            For he _was inadequate. The perfect soldier. The poster boy for an art that was no longer needed. A young man who didn't know the first thing about a peaceful existence. He had wanted peace, he had wanted to see those he cared about unburdened by fighting, but now that it was here he was helpless. He could do nothing. He __was nothing. And there was nothing that he could do about it._

            At some point he had risen from bed, pulling himself with effort through his morning routine. He realized what he was doing and snorted bitterly. What was the point of it all?! He would rather just have a drink.

            So he did. Unearthing a bottle of scotch from a messy drawer, he didn't hesitate to take a long draught of the liquor as he settled lifelessly in front of his laptop. His fingers danced across the keys; he didn't know what he was doing, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He didn't have anything anymore. Not a purpose, not a sense of pride, not his friends … not his best friend. Duo. He growled, and downed some more scotch. There was just no reason for him anymore. He had served his purpose, and now he felt as disposable as an empty bottle. The bottle he held was about half full. He wondered whether or not he could empty it, too?

            "Bored. Bored. I'm … so … incredibly … bored," Duo moaned into the couch cushion that was partially underneath his lips, his hand absently flipping through channels that had long since been ignored. Wufei raised an arrogant but understanding eyebrow from behind his book. 

            "You already said that," he informed the braided boy. Duo lifted his head to stick out his tongue, and then let his cheek fall back to the cushion. 

            "Well, I still am," he said flippantly. "There's nothing to do! Quatre and Trowa are busy talking music, and you know that they have no taste. You're reading some dumb book … er, no offense, and the TV has forsaken me."

            "Why don't you go down to your shop?" 

            "Duh, Wu-man, I'm off today. Don't gotta work."

            "Well, don't you have something there that you could catch up on? Do something constructive for a change?"

            "I suppose I could, but I don't want to. Days off are for being off, Wu-man. Some of us do this thing called relaxing … it's sorta like this other thing we have called fun."

            "Shut up, Maxwell," Wufei said with a tired sigh. "You are not funny. I was merely making a suggestion. Perhaps you should go bother Yuy for a while."  
            "Huh? No way, Wu. For one, he's not feeling well …"

            "All the better reason to go spend some time with him."

            "No, you don't understand. He's …" Duo paused to sigh, flipping onto his back and staring at the ceiling intently. "Something's wrong with him, Wufei. He's not the same. He doesn't like me anymore."

            "Maxwell," Wufei clucked his tongue softly. "That isn't true."

            "Yeah it is," Duo insisted. "He doesn't like anything. He won't even talk to me anymore. Well, listen anymore. He never did have a big hand in the conversation, but at least I knew he was_ there. That he cared about what I was saying. I'm worried. I think … well, maybe something has happened to him since the war ended and we all moved in here with Q-man."_

            "If it bothers you so, you should talk it out with him. Get him to tell you why he's behaving like this," Wufei suggested. "He won't …uh, bring it to the table, so to speak, on his own."

            "Huh," Duo nodded. "Ya know, Wu? Not only are you actually using slang, but you may be onto something! If I want the old Heero back, I just gotta figure out what's the matter with the one that's upstairs lying prone in bed right now."

            "That's what I said," Wufei said, turning back to his book.

            "Yeah, but when you say it, it sounds so formal and cold. When I say it, it's more like … rebuilding a slightly troubled friendship," Duo explained, rolling to his feet. "Thanks a lot, Wu-man."  
            "You're welcome, Maxwell. Now go," Wufei said, signaling that he would not continue the conversation. Duo took the hint and raced from the room.          

            Footsteps tromped up the stairwell. Heero paused slightly in his typing to listen, then went back to staring at the screen. He reached for the bottle to his left, then sighed when he remembered that it was empty. No more scotch. He felt only slight disappointment.

            "Heero? How are you feeling? I was just …" Duo poked his head into the room. "Oh. You're up." Heero glanced emotionlessly at him, and then resumed typing. Duo slowly moved into the room.

            "So … doing better?" 

            "Hn." 'AKA I'm well enough to pretend nothing was ever wrong in the first place,' Duo translated in his mind.

            "That's good. Can I get you something? You missed breakfast."

            "Hn," was his faint reply. 'No.' Duo sighed.

            "Listen, Heero, I've been meaning to talk to you. I've been thinking … hey, what's that?" Duo pointed at the scotch bottle. 

            "What's it look like?!" Heero said in a biting tone. 

            "You've been drinking? This early? And on an empty stomach? Heero, if you weren't sick before you will be now. How much did you drink?"

            "Did you come here to lecture me?" Heero asked pointedly. Duo crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling defensive.

            "No," he replied automatically. "Geez, Heero, we're friends, aren't we? I figured once the war was over we'd have a chance to kick back, you know? Hang out and have fun for once in your life. I just feel like we aren't even on the same wavelength anymore. What's wrong, Heero? I'm only here to help."

            "No," Heero's reply was beyond icy. "I'm fine, Duo. Now what do you want?"

            "I want my friend back," Duo stated plainly. "I want the old Heero back."

            "That's who I am," Heero retorted. "I'm the same person I was before." Which is precisely the problem, his mind added sourly. His fingers began to pummel the keyboard.

            "Bullshit." Heero looked up in surprised anger. Duo was glaring at him now, arms still crossed and eyes glinting dangerously. "Something's happened to you, Heero, and I want to know what."

            "Go away, Duo," Heero said, lowering his eyes once more.

            "No."

            "This is my room. Get out," Heero hissed.

            "Not until you explain a thing or two."

            "Leave."

            "Uh-uh."  
            "Go."

            "Nope."

            "Duo!"

            "Not gonna work."

            Faster than Duo could follow, the empty scotch bottle whizzed just centimeters from his ear, flying over his shoulder. It crashed with a resounding shatter against the wall behind him and tumbled to the floor in jagged pieces. Duo stared incredulously at Heero, whose hand was still poised in throwing stance. His glare was solid.

            "Holy fuck," Duo muttered. "What the hell is wrong with you?! You want left alone? Fine, consider yourself alone!" With that he spun on his heel and fled the room, leaving Heero with nothing but the gentle hum of his laptop and the sound of broken glass ringing in his ears. He stared at the door for awhile, feeling unfulfilled. Duo had left him alone, which was what he wanted. Why didn't he feel that way then? He shook his head slightly at the question in his mind. He didn't want to be alone. He couldn't be alone. That hurt even worse. 

            His hand fell to the desk in defeat.

            Duo fell back onto the couch with defeat. So much for talking.

            "Great idea, Wufei," he said sarcastically. Wufei looked up, set his book aside, and leaned forward in his chair.

            "Tell me," he stated simply. Duo glanced at him warily, and seeing his apparent interest, nodded.

            "He threw a scotch bottle at me."

            "What?" Wufei asked after a slight pause.

            "I was asking him stuff and he didn't want to hear it or something, because he told me to leave him alone. I said I wasn't going to leave until he answered me, and he threw a fucking bottle at me. Missed my head by about this much," Duo explained, holding up his thumb and pointer finger just a hair's breadth apart. "Stupid crazy asshole."

            "All you did was ask him a question?" Wufei asked.

            "Yeah. Well, he got pissed when I wouldn't leave. But I'm out now, and hell if I'm going back near that again. I'll leave him alone all right," Duo said bitterly, and scowled when he felt tears welling in his eyes. He shut them and put his hands over his face. There was a shuffling noise, and a brief, comforting hand on his knee.

            "Don't give up, Duo. He's still your friend. He needs you. Something is wrong," Wufei said. "I'm going to go find Quatre. Perhaps he will have a better idea."

            "Thanks Wu," Duo sighed, peeking through the weave of fingers over his face. "I mean it."

            "He is my friend too," Wufei said somberly. "But you are welcome." He turned and walked from the room, and Duo closed his eyes again. The silence was broken only by the ticking of the clock.

            The rest of the day was a blur. Heero awoke with a mild hangover and a pounding headache the next day. The bed was still cold. The bed was always cold. He pushed himself to his feet and looked at the clock. Figuring he probably had missed breakfast again, he opted for a cold shower. He knew he was hungry, but his body felt oddly detached. He tried to remember the last time that he had eaten. His mind drew a blank, and he slammed his hand against the tap to get the water running.

            He had to get out. The others would only keep nagging him, trying to understand what troubled him. He didn't want them to understand. Partially because he was weak, and partially because he didn't want them affected too. He couldn't bear to watch them fall into the same trap that had caught him. They were happier oblivious to his pain. So he had to get out. Just until they forgot about it. Just until he forgot about the utter betrayal he had seen in Duo's eyes the day before. 

            After he was dried and dressed he took a quick look around the room, and then headed for the hallway. With any luck the others would be in a different part of the mansion, and he could sneak out unnoticed. It would cause fewer problems. However, he had not gotten down the stairs before he was spotted by all four of them. It was if they were waiting for him.

            "Good morning, Heero," Quatre greeted him, glancing up from the card game that he was playing with Duo and Trowa. Wufei was nearby, occupied with his PDA. 

            "Yeah, morning Heero," Duo repeated with a tinge of bitterness. Trowa and Quatre looked sharply at him, but he didn't raise his eyes from his hand of cards.

            "Ohayo," Heero said tonelessly, his eyes lingering for a moment on Duo, and then he turned to pass through the room. Duo's head shot up.

            "Where are you going, Heero?" A slight shrug of the shoulders was his only reply, and Duo hastily shoved his cards at Wufei. "Play my hand, Wu-man," he muttered, then shot off after the disappearing young man.

            "Wait up," he called after Heero. 

            "No." 

            "Don't I at least get an apology?!" Duo demanded, stopping Heero in his tracks. Heero turned to look at him. "You know, maybe an 'I'm sorry for almost decapitating you with a glass bottle' or something?"

            "I told you to go. You wouldn't listen," Heero said quietly.

            "Oh, so you thought the bottle would get me to listen? Dislodge whatever was in my ear canal, is that it? Now I see!" Duo said sarcastically. Heero narrowed his eyes and turned toward the closet, looking for his jacket.

            "Hn. Fine. Gomen, Duo, the bottle was excessive," he said in controlled calm.

            "Well thank yo…"

            "Next time do what I ask, and it won't happen again," Heero finished, pulling out his jacket and turning from the closet. Duo's eyes widened, and then he snorted.

            "Who died and made you king, huh?" he retorted, then took to following Heero again as the boy headed toward the door, pulling on his jacket. "C'mon, Heero, tell me where you're going."

            "I said no."

            "Would you stop it?!" Duo demanded. "You're either disagreeable as hell, or you lie in bed all day sulking, or you disappear for hours on end without a word to anyone! Enough is enough! What's wrong, Heero?!"

            "Nothing."

            "Stop it. The war is over, Heero! It's finished, we're free now! You don't have to be strong all the time any more!" Heero stiffened and quickened his pace. He was almost to the side door of the kitchen. Just a few paces more.

            "That's all I can be," he hissed under his breath. "Give me some space."

            "Heero?" Duo blinked, and decided he needed to take action. Leaping in front of Heero, he blocked his way to the glass sliding door. "What did you just say?"

            "Move, Duo."

            "Heero. Please, if you just let me …" he reached for Heero's arm as he spoke, and as soon as he grasped it Heero snapped. 

            "Yamero!* Back_ off!" _

            The strength with which he shoved Duo away was more than he intended, because when Duo's hand left his arm so did Duo. With a yelp of surprise the braided boy was propelled backward, his body crashing into the glass door and passing through. He skidded to a stop on the wooden porch beyond, his arms coming up instinctively to cover his head in protection of the glass shards that fell around him like sharp rain. The door had shattered. Duo lay curled in surprised pain on the ground. Silence overcame them, and Heero looked horrified by what he had done.

            "Duo?!" he whispered desperately, stepping through the open doorframe. His boot crunched as he crushed some shards beneath his foot. Duo curled up even tighter.

            "Stay away! Stay the fuck away, Yuy!" Duo commanded, his voice muffled but angry. Heero looked down at him in shock.

            "Guys? What happe … Duo!" Quatre burst as he came into the room followed by the other two, drawn by the loud noise. The blond leapt through the door and fell to his knees at Duo's side, oblivious to the glass that covered the wood like odd snow. Gathering Duo into his arms, he murmured something to the braided boy. After receiving a quiet reply, he glared up at Heero accusingly.

            "What were you thinking?!" he demanded vehemently. "Duo is your friend!"

            "I … I …" Heero faltered, floundering for the right words. None came. He looked to the disapproving eyes of Trowa, the angered expression on Wufei's face, and finally back down to the two young men at his feet. He couldn't explain himself, so he bolted. He had never run so fast in his life, and the tears that blurred his vision kept him from seeing his path.

            Some time later, Heero found himself still once more. His ragged breath was the only sound, save for the inconsistent twitter of a bird every now and then. He sat sprawled on the hard ground, oblivious to his surroundings. He had no idea where he was. He looked around with red-rimmed eyes, taking in the sight of what appeared to be a peaceful looking forest. He began to feel the discomfort of the sticks and pebbles that dug through his clothing into his skin, and he shifted in the dirt to a more comfortable position. The danger of the situation he was in seemed dulled to Heero, who calmly tried to slow his breathing and stop the tears. He was lost and alone in a forest, and he didn't have the slightest idea how he had gotten there. He was alone. He suddenly felt dread. Duo would hate him. He probably already did.

            He was useless and alone. A throw-away soldier. A 'Thank you very much for your service, now get lost' kind of soldier. He had been perfect. Now he just was. He existed, nothing more. He needed to think this through, but he had no idea where to start. He had never thought to look beyond the war. Now that it was, he had nothing to build on. He was … afraid. And he didn't want to do it alone.

            "Baka na!*" he berated himself. "What am I doing?!" He went to wipe his hands on the front of his jacket, and his hand brushed over something solid. It was his cell phone. He pulled it out hastily, dialing before knew what he was doing. He had to make things right. 

            There was no signal. He was out of range. Cursing, he stood stiffly. He had to get higher. He had to tell Duo that he was sorry. Beg Duo's forgiveness. Ask Duo what he should do. He didn't care if it made him weak; he couldn't do this anymore. Clutching his phone desperately, he began a trek up the slope in front of him. He climbed and pulled and leapt thoughtlessly, his mission to get above the trees. To get closer to the satellite that would get him in contact with Duo. 

            Finally he reached a small bluff that was void of trees, so he left the shade of the forest for a moment to call. There was a signal, albeit full of static, and Heero called Duo's personal line. Each ring made him more nervous. He had never felt so lost in his whole life. He craved guidance. His training said it was a weakness, but he didn't care anymore. Training was for soldiers, and soldiers no longer had purpose.

            "Hello!" came Duo's cheerful voice, and Heero gave a tiny sob that he hadn't noticed building in his throat.

            "Duo …!" he began. 

            "You've reach the infallible Shinigami," Duo's voice continued, and Heero realized that it was a recording. "I'm too busy to take your call at the moment, but never fear. Just leave a message and as soon as I get a break I'll be sure to give you a ring back. Okay? Go!" Heero took a shallow breath, unable to stop sobbing. The recording beeped, and then there was silence.

            "Duo? Duo, I …" Heero gasped. Why couldn't he stop crying? The hand that held the phone to his mouth trembled. "Gomen, Duo. Gomen nasai … I just …" a sob choked away his words, and he sniffled pitifully. "Aw, fuck it." He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket before he dropped it. His feet began to lead him back into the forest, but his eyes were too glazed with tears to notice where his steps fell. He couldn't just leave Duo some cheap message. He needed to talk. Duo would help him … that is, if it wasn't too late. He wanted to get back to Quatre's (dare he call it home?) but he didn't know where to go. Walking in the direction that he had come from, he hoped that luck had not forsaken him completely.

            He came to a small creek, which was just barely trickling with cold water. The banks were muddy and steep, however, so Heero decided to cross over a dead tree that was lying over the rut in the ground. His balance was oddly precarious, and he had to pause often to ensure that he didn't fall off. He was about halfway across when his boot sunk into the partially rotted bark, and the wood caved beneath his feet. With a cry of surprise Heero twisted against gravity, his foot firmly lodged in the trunk. Fire shot through his ankle as he fell into the creek below, his foot awkwardly wrenched from its bark encasing. He landed face first in the muddy water, a muted scream of pain escaping his lips. His ankle rested at an odd angle to his leg, and it throbbed miserably. He didn't know if it was broken or dislocated. He suddenly felt too weak to care. It took all of his strength to roll out of the water, collapsing on the gritty bank next to it. 

            "Dare ni mo sadame wa kaerarenai,*" he murmured thickly to the canopy of trees above him, words he had often heard in his training. "Is this mine?" Soldiers were destined to die. Would this be his destiny too? It seemed ridiculous; so ridiculous, in fact, that he started laughing. 

            He didn't even remember when he finally passed out.

            Duo sat on his bed, watching Quatre disinfect the last of his cuts. The blond was obviously still upset, but his hands were infinitely gentle with his wounds. 

            "He had no right to do that," he mumbled under his breath. "Stupid careless … how could he?" 

            "Q-man," Duo said, and Quatre looked up at him. "Thanks for your help. Really. But don't blame Heero, please?"

            "He hurt you, Duo. That is inexcusable," Quatre replied. 

            "I don't think he meant it," Duo sighed. "I'm angry with him, but I know he didn't mean it. I only wanted to help him …"

            "Shh, I know," Quatre soothed. "Someday he'll know it, too. Or so help me …" 

            The phone rang. Duo swung his head toward it, thwacking Quatre with his braid in the process. Quatre held fast to his arm. 

            "No, Duo. Let it ring. You know that it'll just be a telemarketer or something," he said. "I need to finish these cuts." 

            "Tch. Fine, Q, but you sure are taking your sweet time," Duo grumbled, smiling anyway at his friend. He tuned out the sound of his own voice on the answering machine, trying instead to work out a plan in his head. The machine beeped, and there was an awkward pause. A slight sound, almost like … crying? Duo sat up straight, hushing Quatre and pointing to the phone.

            "Duo?" came Heero's voice, sounding more broken than he had ever heard it. "Duo, I … Gomen, Duo. Gomen nasai … I just …" There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and Duo then knew that Heero was crying. "Aw, fuck it." There was a click, and he machine went dead. Duo looked at Quatre, and Quatre looked back. 

            "Something is wrong," Quatre said. "I don't like this. He sounded so …"

            "Destroyed?" Duo finished, shuddering. "Are you done, Q? I want to go call him back."

            "Go," Quatre nodded vigorously, releasing his friend. Duo dived away to search for his own cell phone, which had Heero's number saved in its memory. He scowled as he dug for the device, cursing as seconds passed. The seconds had escalated to minutes before Duo finally was able to call Heero back.

            Somewhere in a peaceful forest, the electronic buzz of a cell phone disturbed the germane noises of nature.

            "Damn it, he's still not answering!" Duo growled in frustration. "Doesn't go to his voicemail either. I know the phone is on, so why isn't he answering?!" He tossed the phone on the kitchen table with a sigh, and began to pace. A moment of silence passed, and he lunged for the phone again. Trowa caught his wrist, a sad little smile on his face. 

            "Duo. You've called three times. Enough," he said softly. Duo crumpled, but he nodded.

            "You're right, Tro. I just can't help but think that this is my fault," he said miserably. 

            "It's no one's fault. Heero isn't impervious. He needs to come to that conclusion himself," Trowa explained. Duo chuckled half-heartedly.

            "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said weakly.

            "Heero is a soldier, Duo. It's all he's ever been. Now he must be something else, and I think that he's scared."

            "Heero, scared? Right," Duo snorted, then sobered. "Oh god, you're right. He's scared. He doesn't know what to do. So he's been avoiding us all. Probably on account of his 'weakness'." 

            "I think so," Trowa nodded. "You're his best friend, Duo. Will you help him?" 

            "Hell yes," Duo replied immediately.

            "Good. Then come into Quatre's study. Wufei has been tracking Heero's phone signal. Global positioning is a wonderful thing," Trowa said, smirking a little and turning to go to the study. 

            "Thanks, Tro," Duo smiled, and followed after him.

            "There," Wufei tapped the screen. "The woods north of the estate. I would guess he's about six to eight miles in. He couldn't be much farther, he was on foot after all."

            "Well, let's go then Wu-man," Duo said excitedly, bouncing with anticipation. Wufei gave Duo a disapproving stare, and leaned back in the computer chair. 

            "We'll deploy from here _in formation, Maxwell," he said. "We'll find him more quickly with a search pattern. Trowa and Quatre will take the west; you and I will cover the east. We'll take communication to keep in contact. Four of us should be able to cover the ground in a relatively short time," Wufei said. Trowa nodded, and Quatre smiled half-heartedly._

            "It's a plan," he agreed.

            "Sure, fine, whatever. Let's go!" Duo urged.

            "We're all worried, Maxwell. No need to get panicked," Wufei snorted. "All right, let's go then." The young Chinese man left to find his jacket, and Quatre and Duo began to follow suit. They paused when they realized that Trowa's gaze was still locked on the screen in apparent thought.

            "Trowa?" Quatre asked softly.

            "I was just thinking … the signal isn't moving," Trowa observed. "Should we consider taking some first aid, in case …?" 

            "You think Heero is hurt?" Duo asked worriedly. Trowa pried his eyes away from the screen to meet Duo's, and he gave a nearly motionless shrug. 

            "I don't know. But it seems odd that he isn't moving, don't you think?" 

            "Maybe he just stopped to rest, or think, or something," Quatre suggested.   
            "I hope you're right, Q-man, I hope you're right," Duo sighed, and turned to follow Wufei. The remaining ex-pilots shared a concerned glance, and then vacated the room as well.

            It was cloudy and miserable outside, and Duo could tell already that the day would not improve as it went on. Despite the black jacket and heavy gloves that he wore he still felt cold; his insides were quaking with icy fear. Somehow, he knew that no amount of clothing would be able to keep him warm right now. He glanced at Wufei, who strode through the underbrush with purpose. Quatre and Trowa had already split off from them, communicators in hand, with the fickle promise that everything would be all right. Duo didn't believe them. 

            "If Heero's dead, I swear I'm gonna kill him," he muttered darkly, plunging his hands into his pockets as he hunched against a burst of wind. Wufei gave him an odd glance, and snorted quietly.

            "That would be quite a feat, Maxwell. I didn't know the dead could be killed," he deadpanned. Duo glared at him.

            "Shut up, Wufei. You know what I meant," he snapped, and Wufei sighed.

            "I apologize, Maxwell. I know you feel guilty about this. It isn't your fault, you know. Heero's choices are his own," Wufei said solemnly, then looked ahead of them. "I suggest we split in two directions to cover more ground. We can converge again after we reach the end of the search zone and come back down the middle of our wider sweeps."

            "Yeah yeah, okay. Do you have to sound like a textbook when you talk, Wu?" 

            "Shut up, Maxwell. You know what I meant," Wufei said with a slight smirk. "And my name is not Wu. Now, shall I take the right and you take the left?" 

            "Okay, Wufei," Duo said, smiling despite himself. "And Fei?"

            "What?" 

            "Thanks." With that Duo bounded off between the trees, leaving Wufei to watch after him with an unusual expression on his face. He shrugged it off and turned to the other direction.

            "Any time, Duo," he murmured to the silent forest. "Any time."

            He hadn't heard from any of the others yet, which meant that Heero had not been spotted. Crashing through the branches recklessly, Duo trudged on. He was tired and jittery, and his arms stung from the tiny cuts that were sprinkled over them. The bandages itched, and it made him even more irritated. Oh yes, Heero would die a slow and painful death if he had any say in the matter, Duo thought sadistically as he picked up a rather sturdy stick and brandished it though the air. It swished harmlessly, but it made him feel better. 

            It clattered to the earth suddenly as he reached a small ridge, and his breath hitched as he looked down into the muddy gully before him. All of his rage vanished as his eyes came to rest on the dark navy bundle that was smeared with dirt and bits of brushwood. He leapt into the rocky, slick creek bed without a second thought, approaching the sodden figure hastily. It was Heero all right, his face ashen and streaked with mud, his hair tangled with bits of twigs, and his foot sticking out oddly from the rest of his leg. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Duo glared balefully at the crumbly log that lay over the rut before kneeling next to the unconscious young man to check him over.

            "Heero? Heero man, can you hear me? It's Duo. C'mon, wake up, huh?" he pleaded as he ran his hands lightly over the limp body. He seemed all right except for his ankle, and Duo sighed relief. He pulled out his communicator as almost an afterthought, juggling it as he tried to navigate Heero into a sitting position. He was so cold. He needed warmth. Duo settled next to the young man, letting his figure lean against him as he opened a channel to the others.

            "Guys, can you read me?" he asked with surprising calm.

            "Go ahead, Duo," Quatre answered immediately, and he knew the other two could hear him as well.

            "I'm switching this thing to output. Follow the signal and get over here now, okay?" Duo said. 

            "You found him?" Trowa asked. 

            "Yeah," Duo replied tersely. 

            "Is he okay? I take it you didn't have to carry out your threat, Maxwell?" Wufei said, and Duo snickered at the tactful way that Wufei broke the tension. 

            "Nah, Fei, it looks like he just twisted his ankle. I suppose I can let that slide. Just hurry up, will you? He isn't conscious."

            "We'll be there, Duo," Quatre said, and after the other two agreed Duo set the device down, flipping it to output as he did. Then he put his arms around Heero, ignoring the dirt and dampness that seeped into him. Heero was still breathing, his heartbeat was still clear. He'd be okay in a while, Duo assured himself. It was still his fault, but at least he could make things right.

            Heero gave a nearly inaudible groan, but Duo caught it. 

            "Heero?" he asked hopefully. There was a quiet muttering, but Duo couldn't hear it. He leaned closer, his ear almost on Heero's lips.

            "What'd you say, Heero?" he urged. Heero shuddered slightly.

            "Don't leave me alone. Don't wanna do it alone," he whispered, his voice so vulnerable and child-like. Duo squeezed him tightly.

            "I won't Heero. Don't worry. I won't. Just hold on a little longer, okay?" 

            There was no reply. Heero had faded back to the darkness once more.

            It was fuzzy, and his ankle hurt like hell. He tried to sit up, but the air was too thick. It was pushing him down. No, that wasn't right. The air couldn't be that strong. Had he been captured? Were there restraints holding him to the bed? He couldn't feel anything, but then again, it was too fuzzy. Was Wing all right? His throat was parched and uncomfortable. Had they drugged him? He didn't remember the capture. Had OZ beaten him? Had he been tortured? They hadn't gotten to the others, had they? Surely not. He just hoped he had provided enough of a distraction. Now if only he could open his eyes and assess his situation …

            "Sally says she can be here within the hour, if she drops everything," a voice said, sounding muffled to Heero's ears. There was something akin to a snort from across the room.

            "Oh, _that will help," another voice said sarcastically. "Tell her it isn't necessary. We can take care of him ourselves."_

            "I don't know … it's pretty swollen. We don't even know if he can move it," the first voice said nervously. Another voice interrupted, much closer than the others. It hovered right over him.

            "Fei's right. He did a good job setting it, and there isn't anything more to be done anyway until he wakes up and tests it. Hell, we've all been through much worse. Tell Sally not to rush it."

            "Just because we've been through worse, doesn't mean we have to …" there was a pause, and then a sigh. "All right, all right. I'll tell her. I've set the painkillers on the stand just in case they are needed. I assume you'll be staying with him?"

            "Yeah."

            "Okay then. Let us know if he needs something. Or if you'd like a rest. We can …"

            "I'll be fine, Q, I promise. It's my fault he got into this mess. I'll see him out of it. I promised."

            "All right, Duo. Shall we, Wufei?" There was some shuffling, and then silence. The others had gone. Heero lay still in contemplation as his senses righted themselves. He was with the others, at a safe house … no, that wasn't right. At Quatre's mansion. Because there were no more safe houses. He hadn't been captured at all. It came back to him like some horrible dream, and he groaned lightly in disappointment. It seemed to be the wrong course of action, because he felt someone lean over him.

            "Heero?" Duo's voice asked tentatively. Nervousness coated the air, and Heero felt his stomach quaver. It took everything he had just to open his eyes.

            "Hai?" 

            He was met with wide eyes and a watery grin. Then there was only a flash of brown as Duo buried his face in Heero's shoulder to carefully hug the woozy young man. Heero forced himself to swallow.

            "Don't you ever do that again, Heero, do I make myself clear?" Duo said, his voice stone. "Do I?!" 

            "G-gomen, Duo, I didn't mean to fall …" he croaked, surprised that his voice was so battered. Duo sat upright quickly, his face oddly serious.

            "Oh hell, Heero, don't be stupid. Do you really think that's what I meant?!" he demanded, then sighed at the blank look he received. "I mean, don't go crazy and run off like a lunatic again. It's one thing to throw me through a window, but when you call me to apologize and then cry over it, I know it's bad. Heero? Oh god, it was a joke Heero. Don't start crying, please!"

            "I'm not," Heero protested, ignoring the wet warmth pooling in his eyes. 

            "It's just, if you start I will too, and then we'll both be sobbing like little babies, and Q will walk in and freak out, and the next thing you know we'll both end up in the hospital," Duo babbled on, sniffling loudly at the end of his wandering words. With a sigh he gathered Heero into another hug. "Hell. I know something's wrong, Heero. Let me help you, please. Whatever it is, I'm here for you, okay?" 

            "Duo …" Heero squirmed in discomfort, frowning. "I …"

            "I won't let you do it alone," Duo said, tightening his grasp on the young man. "Because, let's face it, nothing's worse than being alone."

            "I can't be alone," Heero said resolutely, and Duo nodded in agreement before settling Heero into his pillows once more.

            "No. So stop pushing me away, Heero."

            "I .. Duo, I'm worthless," Heero blurted weakly. "That's why. I'm the Perfect Soldier. But soldiers … they aren't needed anymore. I'm … I'm not needed." To his surprise, Duo made a growling noise.

            "You know what, Heero? Just shut up," he said, suddenly grinning fiercely. "That's not true. We need you. The five of us … we all need each other. And I'm here now, so you can forget about this whole self-esteem problem. We'll figure this out, Heero. After you get better, of course."

            "Hn," Heero grunted, and for a moment silence overcame them. Duo's gaze drifted around the room, his hand still resting on Heero's arm in a comforting manner. After a while Heero spoke up, feeling more stable.

            "Duo?"

            "Hmm?" 

            "Gomen nasai," Heero said softly. "I should not have thrown a bottle at you. I was not myself. Please don't take offense." Duo turned to look at him, smiling widely.

            "Aww, Heero, I know you weren't yourself. You wouldn't have missed if you had been," he teased, laughing when Heero glared at him. 

            "Baka. See if I ever apologize to you again!" Heero bit out. Duo let the laughter fade into a grin. 

            "Sorry, Heero," he said lightly. "Apology accepted. You realize we're gonna have to have a long talk about this."

            "Hai."

            "But not now. Now, you need to catch up on your sleep and let your ankle rest. Sally'll be here in a while to check you out, but I don't think it's too serious. Which reminds me, wiggle your toes for me?" Heero complied mutely, and Duo nodded satisfaction. "See? Wufei did a good job of it. Need anything?" For a moment Heero looked thoughtful, and Duo leaned in expectantly to hear his reply. Finally Heero met his gaze, his expression one of slight hope.

            "Just some time. And a little guidance," he said almost sheepishly. Duo seemed to understand his apprehension.

            "Think of it as training, Heero. Training to become the Perfect Human Being. Lesson number one, there is no such thing. But that's okay, because that's what makes life interesting. Now rest up Heero, okay?"

            "Hn. Fine," Heero agreed grudgingly, and Duo stood with a smile on his face. Heero was going to be all right. It might take a lot of time, but Duo would help him work through this. They would all help. He hadn't lied when he had said they needed each other. None of them expected it to be easy.

            Heero was already asleep again by the time he reached the table across the room. He picked up the empty water glass, deciding to go fill it while Heero napped. He crossed the floor silently, and paused to look back at the figure of his sleeping friend. Perhaps it would be all right after all.

            "Welcome back," he whispered before disappearing into the hall beyond. 

* Yamero! - "Stop it!"

* Baka na! - "This is crazy!"

* Dare ni mo sadame wa kaerarenai - "No one can change destiny."


End file.
